


Break the Mirrors

by WynterTwylight



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Eobarry, Hate Sex, It's consensual I promise, M/M, Not canon-compliant, References to Canon, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, barrison, little bit of depression, little bit of suicidal thoughts, maybe hate foreplay is the better term, on Eobard's end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 19:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10256255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynterTwylight/pseuds/WynterTwylight
Summary: Eobard Thawne doesn’t have a Mark, butHarrison Wellsdoes, and on it is written the one name Eobard hates most.Barry Allen.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me at like 3:30 AM, so ummm, enjoy late-night Wynter thoughts I guess? And like every fanfic ever, it started at 1000 words and ended up over 4000...
> 
> Also, additional warnings in case you skipped the tags... 
> 
> Eobard basically feels like Barry ruined his life. When he realizes this, his thoughts get a little dark (read depressive and suicidal). It's only for like a sentence at a time, and it never amounts to _anything_ beyond just a few short sentences. But I figured I'd tell you just to be safe. 
> 
> Other than that, I hope you guys like it and don't hate me too much by the end ;)

Eobard, like many others, was never really sure how many people in the world had a Mark. Marks were only known to those who bore them. For example, if a name—and it was _always_ a name—appeared on a person, only that person could see it.

It was most likely an evolved trait that prevented conflict between the Marked and Unmarked. But no matter what bullshit scientists came up with, it didn’t change how _lonely_ Eobard Thawne felt.

It was estimated that ninety-six percent of the population had a Mark—thanks to routine census data—but Eobard guessed that those figures were greatly exaggerated. Divorce rates alone proved that most couples didn’t make it and if Soulmates were really all they were cracked up to be, then those statistics _had_ to be wrong.

But with a figure of ninety-six percent constantly staring Eobard in the face, he surely defied the odds for the worse.

The moment Eobard learned that Marks existed he spent hours upon hours searching for one on his own body. In a fit of desperation, he shaved his head, only to cross off another spot on the list. Eobard obsessed over the mirrors in his room when he was younger, if only to keep checking, checking, and _checking._

Someone was either born with a Mark, or born without one. Eobard was unfortunately a member of the latter group.

Eobard knew the truth about his situation. He just refused to accept it.

So while those around him found their Soulmates and told Eobard their “perfect” love stories, Eobard learned it was better to withdraw for his own mental safety. He immersed himself in his studies. He threw himself into science. It was clear to Eobard that he was _supposed_ to be alone. He had no choice but to make the most of it in lieu of spiraling into a deep and unforgiving depression.

Eobard knew there was a slim possibility that he might be compatible with someone else who didn’t have a Mark. He could find love with a widowed Soulmate looking for a new companion or one of the Fated unmarked like himself. But Eobard was a scientist. He had little faith in such probabilities that waiting wasn’t worth his time. He’d been screwed over once and wasn’t about to let it happen again.

But science wasn’t _all_ Eobard did. He had hobbies, mainly studying the Flash, a long-dead hero who captivated Eobard from the second he heard of the man’s story. The Flash was a victim of slim probabilities and while the Flash’s situation was very different from Eobard’s, it was still similar enough to be relatable. The man was struck by lighting, almost as if Fate laughed at him, just as it laughed at Eobard.

With a new obsession with the Flash under his belt, Eobard dove into Chronodynamics like it was his calling. He studied the fluctuations of time and all of her intricacies. He chased after solutions to equations he created that were far beyond the dreams of most quantum physicists. Eobard was hacking something of legend: the Speedforce, and after sleepless nights and countless failures, he _solved_ it. He got _in_.

The first time Eobard ran he thought he might have been destined to be with the Speedforce forever—he felt a tug, always pulling him to go faster and become lost in it—but that made such little sense that he dismissed it. He still felt the tug every time he ran, but never as strong as that first time.

Eobard wanted to be like the Flash, but different. He wanted to be a part of the fire but burn a different flame. It was only natural that Eobard’s lightning was red, and that his suit was yellow. He designed it loosely after the Reverse-Flash’s suit that was on permanent display in the Flash museum—its construction was easier and more practical in Eobard’s mind—but Eobard kept the faded black out of _his_ design entirely. Eobard wasn’t going to be like the Reverse at all. He was too _good_ and wanted nothing more that to be happy, just like everyone else. The Speedforce granted him happiness, freedom, and _joy_ , and Eobard had faith that the Speedforce would continue to grant him those things.

But the second Eobard donned the yellow suit and ran, Eobard saw to his horror that parts of it quickly grew black from running due to friction and minor amounts of surface combustion. Eobard didn’t have the resources to synthesize a reinforced tripolymer and now _his_ suit now looked exactly like that of the Reverse-Flash.

Eobard was an _idiot._

The black caked the gloves on his hands, the boots at the ends of his legs, and most of his pants. Every dark detail was _exactly_ like those of the Reverse-Flash’s suit, down to the very last smudge.

 _Eobard_ was the Reverse-Flash, and he wanted to _scream._

He didn’t know _how,_ but he was. Time was a fickle thing and Fate was a _terrible_ mistress.

He thought that being without a Mark was his true unluckiness, but no, chasing after his idol, trying to be good like him and make up for his own unluckiness had just made it worse.

He wanted to die. He’d given up _everything_ to solve the speed equation. He’d lost friends, given up on his family because they refused to support him, lost hours that grew into days that grew into _years_ in order to hack the Speedforce.

Eobard tried not to hate the Flash after that, but he failed _miserably_.

So Eobard vowed that he would _kill_ the Flash before he _became_ the Flash, because if the Flash never existed, then Eobard would never gotten his powers and learned that he was the Flash’s one true nemesis.

And maybe, just _maybe_ , erasing the man Eobard hated most in the world that had caused all of his _pain_ , would change Eobard’s Fate entirely.

Hell, maybe Eobard would have a Mark in the new timeline.

It also sounded a hell of a lot better than death.

Eobard got to work.

~~~~~~~~~~

But Fate? Fate's tricky.

Eobard failed.

He was broken.

But everything changed when Eobard learned the Flash’s name.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Flash was much more powerful than Eobard because Eobard was inexperienced. But Eobard’s hatred fueled his rage, and Eobard wasn’t about to be underestimated.

In the end, they cancelled each other out.

“What? Thawne? Here? _This_ is how it goes down?” the Flash shouted at him while they ran into _Barry Allen’s_ childhood home.

The Flash landed a punch.

It hurt.

“You think you’re actually going to kill me?” The Flash sneered. “That you’re actually going to get away with this?”

“I wanted a second chance for everything _you_ did!” Eobard shouted back, aiming for the Flash’s ribs. He succeeded. The resulting scream sung in Eobard’s ears. He hit him again, “ _You_ made me this way, your _heroism_ —if it could even be called that—” Eobard laughed. It was cruel. “—Destined _me_ to be a villain. Destined me to be _your villain._ ”

The Flash sped upward and slammed Eobard into the wall.

“Then don’t be the villain!” Flash yelled, inches from Eobard’s face.

“It’s not that _simple,_ ” Eobard struggled. He didn’t get free. The Flash’s grip was painful. “I have to be evil because _you_ exist. It’s called _Fate.”_

“Then tempt it by being _good!”_ The Flash said, desperation in his voice, “if you want to be like me so much, _do better at it_!”

Eobard had enough of that. He was done.

The younger Barry Allen appeared in a doorframe, and the Flash knew what was coming, what _had_ to be done, because somehow, Barry Allen _knew._

So Eobard let it happen.

But Barry didn’t go for his mother or his father, he went for _himself._ That…wasn’t _in_ Eobard’s plans. He’d been relying on Barry’s hero complex to save his parents so that Eobard could kill him. At least Eobard now knew that the Flash had _some_ sense of self-preservation.

So Eobard wasn’t expecting it when Barry knelt before his younger self, took him into his arms to protect him and ran.

Then it was just Nora Allen and Eobard, and boy was Eobard _pissed._

Eobard grabbed the biggest knife he could find from the kitchen and checked its balance. It was all for theatrics, of course, because the murder couldn’t be framed on Henry Allen if Nora had been killed by questionable means. A vibrating hand to the chest would be too… _impossible_.

Eobard shifted the knife into a forward grip—he thought about killing her while using a reverse grip, just for the pure novelty of it, but it was too impractical—and stalked towards Nora Allen with such anger and hate that she just cried and cried and _cried_.

Eobard enjoyed every second of it. He knew he looked terrifying. He was a set of glowing red eyes in the middle of a vaguely human-shaped yellow blur. It was the stuff of nightmares and it was _beautiful._

Eobard waited until the moment was right, drove the knife into her ribs, and twisted it.

Nora Allen fell and breathed her last.

Eobard dropped the knife and saw his nemesis in the doorframe having just returned from saving his younger self. Barry’s face was broken and his pain was evident, because _he hadn’t been fast enough to save her_.

 _Perfect,_ Eobard thought.

Barry now knew what it felt like to feel the world shatter because of _one terrible thing._

Eobard thought he’d gotten a sweet consolation prize for a grand total of ten seconds.

The Flash grabbed Eobard with strength beyond that of men and screamed at the top of his lungs as he threw Eobard all the way to the pavement outside the house.

Then the Flash absolutely beat the shit out of him.

Eobard hardly cared.

He failed in his mission already. Killing Nora wasn’t the same as killing Barry. It never would be.

They scrabbled, and when Eobard was stuck on his stomach without the strength to get up anymore, Barry put his knee in between Eobard’s shoulder blades and pressed down. Barry placed his hand at the base of Eobard’s neck to hold him there, and Eobard’s cheek felt like it was being ground into the pavement below him.

“Thawne, don’t you _ever_ fuck with me again,” Barry said, voice quiet in a way that was more terrifying than yelling. “And how _dare_ you, you…” Barry’s voice trailed off for a moment, “no—” Barry let out a broken laugh that abruptly stopped, “—you ruined my life irrevocably, so it’s only fair I do the same to you.”

Eobard felt Barry start vibrating the hand at the back of Eobard’s neck, and then the vibrations grew into _something_ else. They became painful in a way that Eobard couldn’t describe. It was agonizing _._ Barry was doing _something_ awful to him. Eobard felt a part of him fracturing, cracking, _rupturing_ , and he didn’t know _why._

Somewhere during the third or fourth second Eobard was able place the feeling: it was as if Barry was connecting to everything Eobard _was_ and then making it nothing.

Somehow—much to Eobard’s immediate horror—Barry had figured out how to channel his Speedforce link and combine it with Eobard’s. Since they were Reverses of one another in nearly every sense of the word, their individual Speedforce connections just cancelled each other out.

Eobard cried out and tried to stop it from happening, but it was already too late. He would have resorted to begging if Barry would have listened to him. He attempted to vibrate back and try to defend himself, but his link to the Speedforce was getting weaker and weaker. Eventually, it was nonexistent except for a few broken crackles that ran over his skin, a tease of what his powers _used_ to be.

The Speedforce abandoned Eobard without thinking twice. Eobard was a fraud, and always would be. Of course, since Barry Allen was the _chosen_ one _and_ the generator of the Speedforce, it would always come back to him. It would always _choose_ him.

Barry disappeared in a bolt of yellow lightning and ran, leaving Eobard in the street. Eobard tried to get up and run, but only made it a few steps before crashing to the ground in a weak crackle of red lightning.

He lay there for an ungodly amount of time, beaten, bruised, and finally crying with his Speedforce connection shattered beyond repair.

He hated Barry Allen even more for it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eobard wanted to go home, curl up into a ball and wish he never existed, but the Flash had taken that from him too, so Eobard had to be a little more… _creative._

The night Eobard took on the form of Harrison Wells, everything changed. The irony was bitter. It was only appropriate, though, that Eobard was going to use Barry’s idol to hurt _him_ , just as Barry had done to Eobard. He had to after everything Barry had _done…_

But again, everything _changed._

Harrison Wells had a Mark.

It burned on Eobard’s wrist and excitement filled him, right before the dread took over. His mark read the one name Eobard _never_ wanted to see on _any_ Soulmark.

_Barry Allen._

This couldn’t be happening. This _couldn’t_ be happening.

How could the one person Eobard hated most be his Soulmate?

Correction, how could the one person Eobard hated most be _Harrison Wells’_ Soulmate?

Eobard was unlucky.

He decided that the Mark meant nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eobard fell in love slowly and it horrified him.

He saw the fondness in Barry’s eyes when he awoke from his coma. He saw the brightness in Barry’s face, the laughs and the smiles, and none of them were anything like those belonging to the Flash Eobard knew. Barry Allen and Eobard’s Flash seemed so different in Eobard’s mind that it was downright _easy_ to fall in love with Barry now.

The night of the particle accelerator explosion, Eobard prayed that the dark matter might restore his speed.

But Eobard Thawne was never a lucky person.

And _Barry Allen_ was continually the luckiest person in the whole fucking universe, except for _one_ thing.

Whenever Eobard caught Barry staring at him—which happened a lot—the younger man always grew sad and turned away before Eobard could really return his gaze.

Was it because Barry knew that _Harrison Wells_ didn’t want him just by the sheer silence Eobard gave whenever the subject of Soulmates was brought up in conversation?

Absolutely.

Eobard’s mere existence as Harrison Wells caused Barry pain.

And it was beautiful, if not for the fact that it caused Eobard pain too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eobard’s _love_ for Barry Allen became so extreme that Eobard was glad he was leaving this century if only for the excuse that he was running away to avoid telling Barry the truth. Eobard would start over. He’d be a different man. He would finally erase his awful and broken past and his hatred/love for the Flash/Barry Allen. He told himself was easier this way so he could sleep at night.

When the time came, it wasn’t hard to switch back over into I-hate-the-Flash-with-every-mitochondria-of-my-being mode when Barry learned who his beloved Soulmate really was.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Barry asked in the pipeline, his brows furrowing slightly as he stared Eobard down from the other side of the glass.

“It doesn’t matter.” Eobard said. It would take too long to explain it all, and if he _was_ able to get home, then it really wouldn’t matter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Barry finally got what he wanted—the chance to right Eobard’s wrongs—he didn’t take it because he just _had_ to tell Eobard that Harrison Wells was his Soulmate and put it all out in the open.

They were in a long-abandoned lab and Barry was crouched over Eobard, holding him down by straddling the older man’s hips so that Eobard couldn’t escape. Of course, Eobard’s Speedforce connection sputtered out long before this and Eobard had let it happen. He was about to die anyway and he knew it, had known it from the second that Barry landed the punch that shattered his time sphere along with any hope of getting home.

And now, Barry had questions. Eobard was so tired of fighting that he answered them, but Barry was still angry enough to yell for centuries. He could probably punch Eobard into a divot in the cement of S.T.A.R. Labs if he tried.

“Why you, huh?” Barry said, “My Mark has _your_ name on it, right here,” Barry pointed to the area under his lightning insignia and placed his hand on it.

It looked like he was reacting to someone hurting his feelings.

How appropriate.

“Harrison _fucking_ Wells,” Barry said in a way that was akin to a scoff, his voice distant and directed more towards himself than Eobard.

“You… _you_ were my Soulmate.” Barry dropped his head. It cast a shadow, blocked out the light over Eobard.

“No,” Eobard sighed. “ _He_ was your Soulmate. I haven’t had a mark since the day I was born.”

Something crossed Barry’s face.

Realization?

Understanding?

No, _anger._

“You took _my Soulmate from me you son of a bitch!”_ Barry yelled, and brought up his hand, vibrating it, signaling to Eobard that this was the end.

Eobard didn’t brace himself.

And then, for some stupid reason, Barry _didn’t_ kill him.

The speedster faltered, arm falling.

“I hate you,” Barry said brokenly and got off Eobard. Both of them rose to their feet. “I shouldn’t love you, and yet, I do, and you’re not even him _, Eobard._ ”

Eobard swallowed and wondered what the fuck was going on. This man was Eobard’s enemy. He ruined Barry Allen because Barry Allen ruined him. They were the Yin and the Yang, the beginning and the end of each other.

“Yes,” Eobard stalked forward into Barry’s space. “I killed your mother when I couldn’t kill you, because I _hate_ you. I spent my life chasing you down to destroy _every_ part of you. I invaded your privacy for _years,_ saw you grow up and _fall in love with me._ I watched _all_ of it. Even the quiet nights when you shouted _my_ name into the nearest pillow when you thought no one was looking,” Eobard laughed darkly and it made Barry shake, looking as if he was about to break down and start crying.

“But Barry, _Barry_ _Allen,_ ” Eobard let out another dark laugh. “ _I love you too,_ ” Eobard concluded.

Barry’s eyes widened. He _was_ afraid.

Eobard smirked and stepped further into Barry’s space. The younger man backed up, and Eobard followed the movement. They repeated the action until Barry’s back hit a wall, Eobard trapping him as if Barry couldn’t escape if he tried.

Eobard braced a hand on the wall beside Barry’s head, and softly placed his other over Barry’s heart—right where his Mark was—and vibrated it slightly, just to make him squirm.

Eobard hated him so much and Barry took away—no, _stole—_ Eobard’s only chance to start over. _Everything_ just made him hate Barry more.

But _Harrison Wells_ just had to fuck up everything. _Harrison Wells_ loved Barry Allen, and Eobard had been foolish enough to entertain such thoughts until Eobard loved him too _._ And now—because of _Harrison Wells—_ Eobard Thawne couldn’t find the energy to kill the Flash.

His arm dropped and a huff of frustration escaped his lips because now neither of them had the strength to kill the other.

So instead, Eobard _kissed_ Barry.

And Barry kissed him back.

When he crushed the speedster to the wall, Barry let him do it. When Eobard ripped off his cowl, Barry repeated the action with his own.

“I hate you,” Barry said against Eobard’s lips, wrapping an arm around Eobard’s neck to pull him closer.

Eobard pushed the younger man to his knees, and then to the floor. Eobard moved up Barry’s body until he was the one crouched over him.

“I hate you too,” Eobard said trailing kisses down his jaw before biting into Barry’s neck, “but according to _Fate_ you still belong to me _._ ”

Eobard could tell that Barry wasn’t pleased by that and definitely wasn’t pleased by the reminder that his own Fate was causing all of this. Eobard half expected Barry to flip them over to get Eobard off of him, but Barry didn’t even _try._

“Okay,” Barry said, looking up directly at Eobard, “ _Prove it.”_ He challenged.

Eobard took a mental step back. No, he took a _backflip_ back.

 _“_ What?” Eobard asked, sitting up, legs still framing Barry’s hips.

“Prove it,” Barry’s eyes darkened “let me know, just once, that I’m yours. Let me have this _._ ”

Eobard almost said no.

Almost.

But Eobard knew that there was no one more dangerous than someone who had lost everything and had nothing left to lose, nothing left to be _taken_. Barry fell into that category and Eobard had followed him there.

Everything happened appropriately fast after that. Eobard took off his gloves and the top half of his suit. He didn’t bother with his boots and pants _yet_. Eobard noticed that Barry was mirroring his actions, but Eobard didn’t dare show that he cared enough to pay attention to such minor details.

Eobard got up, and opened up a desk drawer to remove the small bottle of lube he kept there. It wasn’t as if Barry was his first fuck in S.T.A.R. Labs. Eobard _always_ had contingencies.

He returned to Barry, who had his pants pulled down to his knees and was already getting to work on himself.

“Eager aren’t we?” Eobard smirked, letting some of the lube squick out of the tube onto his waiting fingers.

“Thawne, I just want to have one peaceful moment with my Soulmate, please give me that.” Barry replied wearily.

That sounded an awful lot like a last request.

Eobard grabbed Barry’s wrist and pulled the speedster’s fingers out of himself. Eobard replaced them with his own, and leaned close to Barry’s face.

“You know, I used to fantasize about killing you,” Eobard started, emphasizing with a particularly rough thrust to Barry’s _very_ sensitive spot.

“And you don’t anymore?” Barry asked, holding back a groan. Eobard was going to fix that.

“No, now I just want to fuck you into the floor,” Eobard moved his fingers inside Barry, irregular enough to bring the younger man closer to the edge, but not enough to get him there.

Barry finally let out the moan Eobard had been waiting for, and he relished it, laughing that he’d just learned there was more than one way to dominate the Flash before kissing him again.

Eobard kissed every inch of Barry’s cheeks, his lips, and his forehead, even the parts that bore the remains of Eobard’s fight with him. When he was done he kept an eye on the younger man’s face for signs of discomfort when Eobard deftly added another finger.

Barry showed none.

“So what went wrong?” Barry asked, his words coming in between gasps, “that night I mean. When you killed my mother. What made you hate me so much?”

Eobard continued his work, and figured he would humor Barry with the answer. It was a loaded question, sure, but he could tell Barry _some_ of it.

“You shattered my Speedforce connection,” Eobard explained. “You left me alone in the middle of the street without the one thing that made my life worth living.”

Barry smirked and Eobard would dare say he looked _proud._

“Can you tell me how I did that?” Barry said it as if he had the right to know.

Eobard stopped his preparation and quickly moved further on top of Barry, straddling the younger man’s chest before adding a tight hand around his throat.

“So help me _God,_ Barry Allen, you _ruined_ my life, as if I would _ever_ tell me how you did it,” Eobard said, squeezing Barry’s throat once in warning before letting him go. “Now, where were we?”

“You’re such an _asshole,_ Thawne,” Barry said, coughing. Despite the bruises that would form soon and the lingering pain, Barry made no move to push Eobard off of him and stop this _thing_ they were doing. Eobard quickly replaced his fingers back inside Barry, and Barry went back to covering up his moans with tight gasps.

Eobard stretched Barry a little quicker, “It’s your fault.”

“Shut _up,_ Thawne,” Barry said, voice resigned and a little too desperate for Eobard’s liking. “Please shut up and let me pretend you’re _not_ the man who killed my mother.”

Eobard realized he couldn’t do this, couldn’t do _any_ of this.

Barry was genuinely surprised when Eobard pulled his fingers out.

“Why are you stopping?” Barry asked, voice wrecked as he sat up on his elbows.

“Because I can’t do this,” Eobard backed up, wiped his fingers on his crumpled suit and fastening the top half of it before putting his cowl up. “You told me once that I didn’t have to be the villain, so let me do good, just this one time. It would be wrong of me take something that isn’t mine, so I just… won’t.”

Eobard rose to his feet, and Barry understood what was happening.

“No, don’t leave, please,” Barry said. Eobard could tell Barry didn’t like how weak he sounded, but Barry knew he couldn’t do anything about it. He still tried, though. “You’re my _Soulmate_.”

“No,” Eobard echoed, “ _He’s_ your Soulmate _._ Not me. Never me, _Flash.”_

Eobard kissed Barry’s forehead and ran.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I'm [GideonShipsIt](http://gideonshipsit.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you wanna hit me up and blab.


End file.
